


Every Beautiful Thought

by spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is a puzzle Harry wishes he could figure out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Beautiful Thought

Niall is an enigma to Harry.

He understands Louis the most out of the band, which was a surprise to him, definitely, as he hadn't really thought he'd click with any of them. He'd gone into the band idea thinking it was more business than anything else. They needed each other, to get used to each other, if this was going to work.

If anything, he'd thought maybe he and Liam would work best as friends, considering they both seemed to think the same way in that regard. That changed when everyone came to stay at his, and by the end of the week thinking about being apart from the other boys from an extended period of time made him fairly melancholy.

Louis and he had clicked almost instantly, and he's not sure how or why but it feels like a friendship he's supposed to be in and he's never felt like that before.

Liam's different from how Harry pictured, naturally sort of quiet, but he opens up when pressed to, managing to crack a dirty joke or two by the end of the first day. He seems uncomfortable in his own skin sometimes, but he's good at keeping them focused on the goal while still keeping it fun.

Zayn's also quiet, but hilarious. He has everyone in stitches almost constantly, and there's something about him that Harry just really likes. Maybe it's the way he doesn't seem ashamed of anything, casually pulling out a cigarette while they were all sitting around the fire and using the flames licking up to light it. He's just cool, is Zayn. He's the kind of cool that Harry wants to be, the kind of cool he's slightly envious of, an effortless cool.

Niall, though. Harry can't pin Niall down.

It's not in a bad way. He likes Niall, likes him a lot. But it seems a little like _Niall_ isn't quite sure who he is either. It's like he's everything, funny and quiet and cool and a massive dork and musical and cute and he tries to be all of those things all at once, or, even more strangely, sometimes he tries to pick one, like they all need to fit into little boxes that members of bands need to be put in.

Maybe that's the normal formula but Harry's never liked the idea that one characteristic should define you for the rest of your career. He doesn't want to be forty and still being called the "Cute One," as the others had informed him he'd be.

Maybe Niall can be the Mysterious One, except that's kind of under the Cool One umbrella and therefore Zayn's territory. Harry's pretty sure he's falling under the Band Boxes spell, but if everyone else is going to put them there anyway, he might as well consider the potential.

He'll be the cute one, then, though the thought of it makes him want to vomit. Louis is obviously the funny one, and Zayn is the cool one, Liam the... mature one, so what does that leave for Niall? Harry doesn't know.

"What are you?" Harry asks curiously, poking the fire with a stick. The others have all gone inside to bed, only he and Niall remaining in comfortable silence, occasionally interrupted by the crackle of the flames.

Niall looks up at him, startled. The flames flicker in the shine of his eyes, and the effect is kind of creepy. "Pardon?" he asks, blinking. Harry relaxes a little. Niall's not creepy, he thinks to himself in amusement.

"You know, if we're all in boxes," Harry clarifies, though from the look on Niall's face, he's not making much sense. He isn't surprised, either. The fire's made him sleepy, his limbs all lazy and heavily weighted.

"Boxes," Niall says slowly. "Well I s'pose that'd make us Christmas presents or somethin', I dunno."

Niall has a nice accent, Harry thinks absently, snuggling down into the blanket covering him. Soothing. Maybe he can be the soothing one. No, that's shit.

"No, like." He'd wave a vague hand if he felt like moving. "Y'know, boxes. Smart one n'that."

"Oh." There's a pause, or maybe there isn't, because Harry feels startled awake when Niall speaks again. "I dunno, mate, don't much like the idea of putting people in boxes."

"You're very Irish," Harry informs him in a mumble, wondering when his eyes closed. He hears a laugh. Niall has a nice laugh, it sounds like he does it a lot and Harry likes it very much.

Niall says something then that must be a traditional Irish saying or something, Harry has no idea because he's taken on the accent so thick it isn't understandable anymore.

"Yeah," he says anyway after a moment, sighing. He's so _comfortable_...

The next thing Harry knows, he's _moving_ , and he frowns curiously, remaining quiet until he can establish what's happening.

"Are you _carrying_ me?" he asks, though he's pretty sure he already knows the answer as he snuggles against a warm chest.

"... No," he hears from a place where he doesn't expect it, sheepishly beyond the shoulder his head's pillowed on. "I was going to but you were heavier than I thought so I went to get Liam."

"Hi, Harry," comes Liam's voice, amused but mostly just tired. "Your curls weigh you down, I think."

Harry tries to apologize but he thinks maybe it's just a garbled mess, because the other two laugh. Liam's laugh is just as lovely as Niall's for the opposite reason; Harry doesn't hear it nearly enough.

"You should laugh more," he mutters as he is set down onto a bed, fumbling around until he can squirm under the covers.

Liam doesn't respond, just patting his shoulder and then saying to Niall softly, "No problem," when Niall thanks him.

Harry sighs happily, curving his back a little to spoon into the warm body behind him, Zayn or Louis, it doesn't really matter. He blinks his eyes open a little when he feels a gentle touch to his forehead, a pair of lips pressing there softly.

"Munh?" he mumbles curiously, looking up at Niall. It's hard to tell with only the moonlight through the window to see by, but he thinks the other boy might be blushing.

"Sorry," Niall whispers back. "My mum always used to do that before I went to sleep."

Harry smiles sleepily up at him, leaning up carefully to press their lips together properly, because that just seems like what he's supposed to do, and Harry's always been one for acting on impulse.

Niall makes a sort of gasping noise, but Harry breaks the kiss rather quickly, patting the side of Niall's face.

"I like you," he tells the other boy, dropping his head back to the pillow and falling asleep almost instantly.

He doesn't hear Niall's response of "I like you too, Harry," and he doesn't see the smile on his face, but in the morning he feels like maybe he understands the other boy just a little bit better.


End file.
